


Mirage

by Pfain Ryder (Cat_Moon)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 12:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19394539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Pfain%20Ryder
Summary: Sam leaps into a graveyard, and what he finds there is devastating.  Ziggy says he's not there to change anything, but then Sam's never been good at listening.





	Mirage

**Author's Note:**

> 1992\. ...this is what happens when I'm sick, tired, cramped into a Greyhound bus...
> 
> Originally published in the fanzine, “Leaps From Hell.” 1994.

Right from the start, I knew I wasn't going to like this leap. Not that I haven't leaped into a graveyard before--and in the middle of a stormy night no less--but although this time the sun was shining and the trees surrounding the grove were on fire in a blaze of autumn colors, a winter chill whipped through my soul.

I glanced around nervously. I was alone...well, sort of. I had plenty of company, but I doubted they'd have much to say. I sure hoped. It was beautiful there, peaceful and serene.

I walked among the headstones. Some of them were quite new, others old but well-cared for. The most recent one I came across was dated 1995. I'd obviously leaped in very closer to my own year. It must have cost a bundle to be interred here; it was a beautiful cemetery with a huge church looming in the background, and many of the monuments were large and ornate.

Eyes not on where I was going, I nearly tripped over one of the newer stones. Regaining my balance just in time, I glanced down at the inscription to see who I almost ran into. The resultant wave of shock made the world spin and drove me to my knees.

It said Albert Calavicci.

"Oh...my God..."

Some distant part of my mind registered the date with only casual interest, where under other conditions would have fascinated me. 1936- 2006. I'd leaped into the future.

It was little consolation.

I reached out to touch. It was real, solid under my trembling fingers. I gripped the cold, uncaring stone, conscious of the warm, loving soul underneath who once walked the earth at my side. Warm...warmth I hadn't touched in so long. Was I even home yet, in this time? Or was this the closest I'd ever get to touching him again...

I became aware of hot tears hitting the surface and running down the ornately carved words, as I felt the thin thread of my sanity snap.

I threw my head up to the sky. "Why are you doing this?" I demanded. "What am I here for? Why are you doing this?!" My yell echoed through the silent grove. No one answered.

It was the worst, horrible, sick joke imaginable and I'd had some tough ones thrown at me over the leaping years. This was something I knew I didn't want to live through.

"Al!" My head snapped up and I frantically scanned the area for a sign of the hologram. I wouldn't--didn't want him to know about this if I could help it. Maybe it was just a coincidence. And maybe I'd leaped into Mickey Mouse.

After one last caress of cold stone, I struggled to my feet, brushing tears from my eyes and dirt form my knees. Al couldn't see me like this, at least. It would be hard enough on him.

I walked through the cemetery, away from the grave. Still, no matter how far I walked, I'd never be able to get the image of it out of my head, it was burned into my memory.

When Al made his usual surprise appearance, I nearly screamed. I think he almost did too, when he realized he'd stepped through a headstone. He always was squeamish about dead bodies, he once told me it was because of how many he'd seen in Vietnam. I watched him hastily step away. It could have been worse, could have been his own...

"Hey, Sammy."

I valiantly fought down the tears his cheerful greeting prompted, drinking in the vibrant sight of him like a dying man in the desert. It too was a mirage I could see, but not feel.

Al's eyes narrowed and I swore to myself. Fooling him was going to be an Emmy winning performance if I could actually pull it off.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing." I shielded my bright eyes. "You're just blinding me with that outfit! Next time warn me, and I'll wear sunglasses."

"My future's so bright, I gotta wear shades," he quoted the old song. I almost lost it right there. Luckily, something was distracting him and he didn't notice. As a matter of fact, he was a bundle of excitement. "Guess what, Sam? You're in the future! This is great! Not by too much, mind you, but still.”

"I figured that out by the dates," I answered carefully. I wondered if Ziggy would be able to tell Al about the leap, cursed my Swiss-cheese memory for not knowing the answer. Maybe though, it should come from me instead of a computer. "Al..." I began, watching him study the handlink and puff on his cigar.

He frowned at something on the link and looked up, scrutinizing me. "I gotta go--" he said quickly, called up the door, and was gone in the blink of an eye.

Well, he knew...I assumed. Why his rush to get back, I had no idea. Maybe he also needed time to prepare before he faced me with the news. Bewildered, abandoned and lonely, I wandered back to...his... headstone and settled in to wait.

* * *

I don't know how long Al was standing there, just finally felt his presence and glanced up.

He gave me a weak smile, looking apologetic.

"Al..." I began beseechingly, though I had no idea what I was planning on saying to him.

"I'm sorry Sam, it's just that...when I realized _who_ you leaped into, I knew I was more needed back at the Project."

"Huh?" I asked vaguely.

"You've leaped into yourself again, Sam," he explained quietly. "In 2007."

The implications buzzed around in my head a bit. Still, what good did it do? I was way too late. "I'm sorry you had to see this," I said quietly.

Al gave me a strange, sad smile, but his tone when he spoke was curiously light. "Hey, it's not so bad. Everybody goes sometime."

Maybe it was hysterical grief, but his words sounded like a song. Everybody goes sometime...everybody loves somebody sometimes. I wondered if anyone here remembered Dean Martin...I wondered if I was losing it.

"What am I here to do?" I asked.

With a cursory grimace directed at the headstone, Al sat down cross- legged next to me. "You're not here to do anything. In fact, you should be leaping soon, Sam."

"What are you talking about?"

Al looked away briefly. His hesitancy was palpable. "It's not quite as accurate as Ziggy giving us facts on the past, but...he says he uh, you...well..." he faltered, looked away again and took a deep breath. "You committed suicide here today. They found you...here..." he stopped, unable to go on.

Was I surprised? Not really. I wasn't particularly concerned either, except that was selfish. "I'm sorry, Al."

"You should be!" he stated vehemently. "But I talked you out of it, so it's okay."

"Yeah, everything's swell," I said, words dripping sarcasm.

"There's more," he started, obviously trying to decide whether to tell me or not.

"It can't get any worse."

"Do you want to know why you did it?"

"It's self explanatory, Al." I stared at the stone in front of me. "What's the point?"

"Dammit!" he swore. "The you in the Waiting Room was easier to console!"

"Of course, he's really _there_ with you!"

Something in his eyes gave him away.

"What aren't you telling me, Al?"

He sighed. "Nothing."

"You're lying. You tell me I've leaped into 2007 so you can--" I stopped abruptly, eyes widening on the stone. "Why _now_?" I asked, staring at the date of death. 2006.

"You leaped home three months ago, Sam."

"No..." I whimpered. "No!"

"Sam! Don't lose it now!" I didn't want to listen, but he kept on, tears in his voice. "You couldn't deal with the fact that you were too late to say goodbye. We got that chance, Sam. We got our hug."

I stared at him in disbelief, suddenly wanting only to throw myself at his feet. "It isn't enough!"

"It will be."

"No," I insisted. "Never. You're wrong, Al. I let you think that," I said, strange smile of certainty breaking out.

"Sam..." he began warningly.

Too late, the truth was out. I spoke the condemning words. "I want to hold you in my arms, I...I want to feel your heartbeat next to mine. To love you..."

A shudder ran through his frame as he stared into the distance. "Please don't do this now, Sam."

"Too late," I continued, a manic sort of satisfaction descending on me. "I love you. That's why I did it, because I never told you, we never...not over not getting some stupid hug!"

"I know," was all he said.

I was on a roll. "You're wrong about the leap, too. I can change history and I'm going to! _We_ are. I'll just have to work harder--find a way to bring me home--you and Ziggy, too. And start taking better care of yourself," I demanded. "Quite those cigars, go to the gym, stop worrying so much about me. You're tough, you can live to be 120! And I'm gonna come home and we're gonna be _together_!" I finished, not giving him any choice, not asking, but I didn't care.

Al had listened to my tangent silently. Now he remained with his head down for a long time. Finally, he looked up at me, tears sparkling in the last light of the dying sun. "Think it'll work?" he asked sadly.

"We can try our damnedest."

"You've always been a spoiled brat who gets everything he wants."

"If that means you, I'm not sorry."

Al smiled. "Me either. I love you, Sam."

Even though I knew I couldn't make contact, I reached out.

And leaped.

* * *

I woke with a start, heart pounding wildly as I stared around the dark room with the typical disorientation of resurfacing from a dream. I guess I must have been noisy in my nightmare, because warm arms were holding me tightly, soft voice whispering reassurances.

"Al?"

"Shh...it was just a bad dream." He stroked my hair lovingly. "Wanna talk about it, or just go back to sleep?"

Familiar territory. We'd both had our share of nightmares since I'd leaped home over twenty years ago. It wasn't all bad though, there had been a warm body to comfort in the bed beside, each and every night of those years. Only somehow...

I had a feeling this one wasn't a dream. More like a mirage.

"Go back to sleep," I answered, snuggling closer and closing my eyes.

the end

10/8/92

6:37 pm

PA. Rt. 80, mile 206, Greyhound


End file.
